


Sugar and Skulls

by Amythe3lder



Series: Irregular Pieces [23]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Halloween!Lock, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amythe3lder/pseuds/Amythe3lder
Summary: “Decorations, though? Must we really?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noadventureshere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noadventureshere/gifts), [Vanetti (lereya)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lereya/gifts).



> I get confused  
> I never know where I stand  
> And then you smile  
> And hold my hand  
> Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you  
> "Spooky"-Dusty Springfield

“Can't we just wait a week and go to a bonf-” It was at this point that Sherlock turned to look at him and wisely shut the hell up, his eyes wide. John realised that his face might be a bit more thunderous than his fiancé really deserved. He struggled to work the tension out of his jaw and dial it back a notch before speaking. It certainly wasn’t Sherlock’s fault John had reason to avoid festivities on the fifth of November.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take Elanor out for Bonfire Night,” John said, though it certainly would hurt. “I might even join you. But why not do this too?”

For a second, it appeared Sherlock might shrug and agree, but he scrunched his nose instead. “Decorations, though? Must we really?”

“We really must, yeah.” John replied with a firm nod. “Think how much fun she’ll have,” he said, turning to gesture at his daughter and panicking when she wasn’t where he left her. He spotted her peeking at them from under Sherlock’s chair and relaxed into the familiar buzz of adrenalin. Parenting was a wild ride.

*          *          *

The logistics of dragging a nine-month-old through a shopping trip proved too daunting for the two men. So they did what any reasonable couple would do: they bribed a friend to tag along.

“Where are we starting?” Molly asked from the passenger seat. She flipped down the visor and craned her neck, but the sun remained aimed square at her retinas. John handed her a pair of sunglasses from the console and she turned to look at him. At least, he felt pretty sure she was looking at him in her borrowed mirrored aviators. Hard to tell.

“‘Starting?’ Is this going to be a thing?” Sherlock asked from the back, a hint of whine to his voice that made John fight off a grin as he pulled away from the kerb.

“Well, first we have to get candy, then decorations and a pumpkin and costumes and then,” Molly announced, “more candy to replace what we've eaten.”

“Why not wait to pick up the candy last then?”

“Don't be silly John, you'd have us shopping while hungry?”

After a pause, Sherlock piped up with, “Elanor and I like her plan.”

John reminded him that she couldn't have candy yet anyway, and his child gave an insistent cry of, “Yis!”

“Quite all right, pumpkin,” Molly soothed, “we'll eat it for you until you have more teeth.” She turned back in the general direction of John again and asked him to please stop here. “They have craft supplies- and I have to get away from the radio now.”

“You don't like ‘Love In An Elevator?’” John grumped.

“Sure, I just don't care for the song.” And she was out of her seat and gone.

They caught up to her in front of a display. She was frowning, and John’s own face soon fell as he caught why. _Oh no_ , he thought, _there they go_.

“That's not at all what a rat’s skeleton looks like, Elanor,” Sherlock bent to inform the baby strapped to John’s chest. “Rodent skulls are distinct in their long incisors. Accuracy would be more frightening in this case.”

“It's got ears, though.” Molly sighed, disappointed. “How's it got ears? I don't think they tried at all.”

They all glanced down the aisle and spotted the skeletal spider at the same time, and Sherlock visibly recoiled from the nonsense of it.

“John,” he began in a tone that said he was about to ask something deathly serious and also absolutely mad, “we can do better than this.” He met Molly’s eyes and she nodded slowly. John watched his resolve skate away on thin ice.

*          *          *

If the few trick-or-treaters had been less hyped on sugar and the thrill of careening through the neighborhood after dark and after dinner, they might have noticed that the decorations outside 221 Baker Street were less store-bought and more homemade. There were odd jars of dried leaves and coloured stones, and the bones looked especially realistic in the flickering candlelight of the entryway.

Authentic, one might say.

The adults at the party on the second floor wore fancy dress, except Molly wore her same rumpled jumper over a dress that didn't quite go and explained that she was dressed as a witch, “As usual, you know,” and would trail off eyeing the peanut butter cups like they were rightfully hers.

“I think,” Sherlock said quietly when he and John ducked into the kitchen for more gummy worms, “that you were right about this. It'd be a shame for Elanor to miss out on a holiday when she’s missing so much already.”

Because it had been his original reasoning- subconsciously and to his shame- and because Sherlock saying it scraped against his ribs, John cradled his face and kissed him firmly. “Look here, love, I don't think our girl’s missing a single thing.”


End file.
